Yellow, Pink, and Green
by TheCrowMaiden
Summary: A series of drabbles that are mostly Cavendish x Rebecca, some with Bartolomeo too. They're all the short bits I post on tumblr but aren't long enough to be their own entry on here, so I thought I would gather them into a single collection where each chapter is a different story. Will be updated whenever I write new ones. No smut, pretty much all fluff.
1. Happy Birthday, Cavendish

The mid morning sun was just breaking through the last windows of the palace, lighting up the few rooms that were at the wrong angle to take advantage of dawn. The sun lit up the dull brown stones, and also lit up Cavendish's unruly mess of blond curls. Rebecca peeked around the edge of the door, and sighed at his snoring even as she noted how picturesque he was in the sunlight. She had been cautiously checking in on him for the last two hours to see if he was awake and, while she was getting impatient, she didn't want the surprise to be spoiled by him being in a snit over interrupted beauty sleep.

A hitch in his breathing caused her to duck back behind the doorjamb, and after a long moment she heard him yawn. Grinning, she grabbed his surprise.

"Happy Birthday!" Rebecca sang out cheerfully, opening the door with her hip as she balanced a precariously loaded tray.

Cavendish was sitting up in his bed, finger combing the worst tangles from his hair and for moment she thought he looked pleasantly surprised. He covered for it quickly with a perfectly theatrical groan, complete with putting his hand over his eyes.

"I don't recall telling you when my birthday was."

"Well, you did."

Rebecca smiled, and plunked the large tray down onto his lap. She had gotten her father to add legs to it so it rested on the bed without danger of toppling over, and she was pleased that it worked precisely as intended. She sat on the edge of bed, and took the cover off of his breakfast. There were a dozen red roses carefully wrapped in silk and tied with a large bow beside it, and a slightly misshapen cake topped with slightly misshapen marzipan roses beside them.

Moving the roses to the bedside table Cavendish neatly ate his breakfast, though he declined a piece of cake so early in the morning, moving it the table as well. But he relented and did eat one of the pink-tinged marzipan roses when Rebecca pouted, and she laughed at his mischievous observation that they were better than the real thing.

After moving the tray out of the way, Rebecca got Cavendish's hairbrush and sat behind him, smoothing out the tangles he had missed. Cavendish started winding his hair into its usual style as she worked, and Rebecca smoothed down the few flyaways he had with a dab of water.

"Thank you," he said, reaching back and patting her knee. "For breakfast, too. Did you prepare it all yourself?"

"No," she replied, and grinned. "Luffy helped."

And she leaped off the bed as Luffy, who had been bribed with a giant breakfast into waiting for that cue, tackled Cavendish from the doorway.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY CABBAGE!"

"REBECCA! GET HIM OFF ME DAMMIT!"


	2. Three's a Crowd

Rebecca wished there was a way to make her helmet soundproof. Though the golden it did prevent most head injuries, it also seemed to magnify the voices of her partners and she was sick of listening to Cavendish and Bartolomeo's voices echo in her skull. She couldn't even rub her temples to ease her growing headache as the two men bickered behind her without a care in the world.

The port was a haven for pirates, bandits, and other wild folk, so they at least didn't have to worry about standing out. They were walking along through the main streets, making their hopefully inconspicuous way toward the fort. The red crest of her helmet, the blue plume of Cavendish's hat and Bartolomeo's shock of green hair usually made them easy targets. But in the sprawling mess of buildings haphazardly stacked around the sea, the population was nothing if not colourful.

She glanced back at her own colourful crew, and stifled a groan. Bartolomeo had his fingers in his ears and was humming loudly and tunelessly while Cavendish raged against the barrier that, though unseen, she knew was there.

"Will you both stop that?" Rebecca said, backtracking to the two men. "We're supposed to not be drawing attention to ourselves, remember?"

"It's not my fault this uncouth rooster was disparaging my beauty!" Cavendish hissed through his teeth at her, kicking his heeled boot against the barrier in an angry staccato.

Before she could reply, Bartolomeo opened one eye and said in the most obnoxious singsong voice Rebecca figured he could muster, "Not my fault Strawhat's better looking than you~"


	3. Groups of Three

"And… you're done."

Rebecca finished tying off the last tiny braid with a little strip of leather, and handed Bartolomeo her battered hand mirror.

Since his hair had turned out to be a variety of different lengths, there was a fair bit of loose hair that she had been unable to tie back and the overall effect was somewhat amusing. But Bartolomeo seemed pleased with it, holding the mirror at different angles to admire the spiky mess.

Cavendish, who was lounging off to the side, scoffed.

"Wonderful. Now the rooster looks like a porcupine."

Bartolomeo stuck his tongue out and made an especially rude gesture at the blond with the hand not holding the mirror, and went back to admiring his hair.

"Not everyone has hair as long or smooth as yours, Cavendish." Rebecca said, flicking a pebble at him that bounced harmlessly off his knee.

Both pleased and diverted by the compliment, Cavendish propped his chin on one hand and admired his own braid in his hand mirror. Rebecca had plaited it into a rather elegant fishtail, liberally decorated with wildflowers from a bouquet the Tontattas had brought her a couple days ago.

Braiding the men's hair on warm summer days was one of Rebecca's favourite indulgences, although she was running out of styles for Cavendish. The blond got tetchy if she spent more time on Bartolomeo's hair than his, and he wasn't fond of putting his hair completely up. Regardless, they both seemed to enjoy the outcomes she'd come up with so far.

And smiling at the two drastically different men admiring their hair, Rebecca sat between them and stole one of Cavendish's daisies out of his braid to tuck into her own.


	4. Personal Hygiene

The river was past Cavendish's waist, but it was the only way back to their ship. The thunderstorm overnight had caused massive amounts of flooding that had taken out the roads and most of the dry land. Rebecca could wade well enough even though the water was a fair bit deeper to her than to the blond, and Cavendish's only issue was that fact that the water was filthy and he would be ankle deep in mud.

That left Bartolomeo as the problem.

The three of them had already had a close call where the tattooed man had thought he could make it through a washed out road that morning. The water had barely been knee deep at first but an unseen hole had formed that Bartolomeo went straight into, the water over his shoulders. The green-haired man was already too heavy for Rebecca to move dry, much less soaking wet, and it was almost too much for Cavendish and herself to get them all back to dry land.

As bad as the roads were, they were still in better shape than the docks. All the mudflows and landslides had demolished most of the lower part of the mountainous island, leading the three of them to the unpleasant discovery that they couldn't access their ship from land. The entire dock was nothing but sludge, and the unbroken walkways bent like longbows from the weight. Villagers that were trying to salvage belongings had warned Rebecca that more than a couple people had already died trying to reach the other ships.

So that left them with the option of wading through the flooded river that would eventually let out in the sea next to the dock. And the only way they could do that was for Cavendish to carry Bartolomeo.

"This is preposterous!" Cavendish complained, even as he divested himself of his coat and sword. "Me, carry this brute?"

"We've been over this at least twenty times." Rebecca replied, sighing as she took the coats of both men. "There's no other way."

"But what if something happens to you?"

There was honest concern in his voice under the note of complaint, but before Rebecca could answer him, Bartolomeo snorted.

"Then you drop me and save her, idiot."

"I'll be careful." Rebecca told the two men, kissing Cavendish on the cheek and giving Bartolomeo a hug. She wrapped the coats around her and Cavendish's swords and waded into the river, holding the bundle above her head.

Cavendish sighed heavily, and turned to the other man with a sour expression.

"Let's get this over with."

It was lucky that Cavendish had greater strength than his slender frame suggested. Though it was slow going and he was bent under the weight of Bartolomeo, he didn't show any signs of tiring any time soon. Rebecca stayed in the lead searching for obstacles, but remained within arm's reach just in case.

After an hour they had all begun to sweat from the effort, and it wasn't long before Cavendish made an odd gagging sound.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked, suddenly concerned that he had over-exerted himself.

"It's him!" Cavendish gasped. "He stinks!"

"Don't drop him."

"You have so little faith in me; I'm wounded." Cavendish scoffed, even as he wrinkled his nose.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at his dramatics and patted his arm affectionately. They continued in silence for several minutes, but when Bartolomeo shifted slightly on the blond's back, the shorter man choked again.

"You smell like you haven't bathed in a week!"

Bartolomeo shrugged and leaned his elbow on Cavendish's head with a smirk.

"Eh. I probably haven't."

Cavendish's face went white with horror, and Rebecca lunged toward her friends.

" _Don't drop him!"_


	5. Nap

Flower petals from the trees that the hammock was strung between floated down onto Cavendish and Rebecca, settling in their hair. The delicate white flowers looked like jewellery adorning Rebecca's, but Cavendish brushed them gently from her bangs so that no strays could tickle her awake.

The cords were digging into the back of his knee, but he continued to use one foot to rock the hammock back and forth in an effort to keep Rebecca asleep. She was smiling, and Cavendish didn't want to disrupt the impromptu nap she was taking on his chest.

Heavy thumping footfalls cut through the warm, lazy atmosphere, and a guard came around the corner of the garden wall in full gear.

"Is the princess Rebecca her _eeeeeeeeeeeeeep_!"

The guard's question ended in a high pitched squeak, the man's eyes glued to the thin quivering sword blade stuck in the mortar an inch from his face.

Cavendish, the arm that he hadn't just used to launch Durandal like a javelin wrapped around Rebecca's shoulders, glared at the guard. The man took the hint and saluted vigorously but silently, before making a beeline to the palace back the way he had came. Rebecca mumbled something indistinct before snuggling back into Cavendish, and he smiled as he resumed rocking.

He moved his sheath so that they wouldn't trip over it when they got up, and began to doze. The blond swordsman wasn't concerned about leaving Durandal stuck in the wall. He doubted anyone could get it free from the stones without waking him.

If anything, it might serve as a warning to anyone else with ideas of interrupting.


	6. Brave

"You can't dance?"

"I never had time to learn!" Rebecca said, embarrassed.

There was a party taking place in the palace, a celebration of the lives that had been saved in Dressrosa through cooperation and courage. Food and drink had been set out on the long tables in the hall, and the courtyard had been cleared for an impromptu dance floor. So far those dancing were either in sedate pairs or were following the lead of Viola who was stamping out her stylish flamenco. Even with a couple musicians playing it was quieter than the hall where the pirates and other allies were still feasting and laughing, none of them ready to make their way away from the food yet.

Cavendish, who ate sparsely compared to the other pirates, had found Rebecca and invited her out onto the dance floor.

"It's not much different from elegant swordplay." Cavendish tried to convince her, "Your particular fighting tactic from the Colosseum was even called a dance."

"I still can't do it."

"Then I'll teach you!" He said with a smile. "It's simple!"

Rebecca just bit her lip and shook her head, knowing he couldn't possibly understand that her lack of skill wasn't the only thing holding her back. She had spent enough of her life being watched by strangers.

"If words are ineffectual, how about a demonstration?"

With a grandiose bow to her, Cavendish strode out and planted himself in the middle of the courtyard and began to dance. The other dancers laughingly made way for him, as he began to twirl and dip much as he did when he was just showing off. But he was graceful as well as beautiful, and soon all of the dancers had stopped just to admire him.

He beckoned to Rebecca, with a broad sweep of his arm and a smile, to come join him. But she shook her head vehemently, and took an involuntary step further back. Cavendish frowned for a split second, and spun on his heel as he searched the crowd. He parted the dancers with ease and took hold of Viola's hands when he found her, pulling her into the centre of the courtyard with him and whispering something into her ear.

Viola laughed and began to dance again, a less structured dance than before that seemed to follow Cavendish's spontaneous and balletic style. Skirt's swirling, she waved to her niece. When Rebecca refused to let her aunt catch her eye, Viola pulled Robin to the courtyard instead. Robin swayed side-to-side with a subtle movement of her hips that was no less graceful than Viola's fuller movements, smiling and lightly laughing at the other two. The three managed to blend their dancing together in a way that was beautiful and loose, and Rebecca unthinkingly took a couple steps forward to admire them better.

The moment she did, Cavendish spun to face her and dipped down onto one knee. He held both hands out and practically sparkled at her, and Viola and Robin waved to her with encouraging smiles. So with all the bravery she could muster, Rebecca walked out into the courtyard and took Cavendish's proffered hands.

He twirled her around, beaming, and then just held her hands loosely so she could try to mimic his gentle rocking motion.

Viola nudged Cavendish aside and took one of Rebecca's hands from the blond, taking his free hand and swaying with them as she smiled at her niece. Robin did the same on Rebecca's other side so the four of them made a circle, and they rocked back and forth to the music as a group. Rebecca smiled at them all, thinking that dancing maybe wasn't so hard after all.

And then Nami jumped into the courtyard with a cheer as she jumped in between Robin and Cavendish, shortly followed by Luffy who half tackled Rebecca in his exuberance. He grabbed her and Viola's hands and swung their arms while laughing, before joining Franky and Chopper who were starting an odd dance of their own. Bartolomeo's face was covered in happy tears as he danced along with them, and the Tontattas were dancing on Usopp's shoulders. More pirates piled into the courtyard, and the musicians picked up the tempo to match their energy.

Nami stole Robin and Viola, and Viola dragged her brother-in-law away from the wall with complete disregard for Kyros' blushes and protestations. Sanji nearly fell flat on his face in his haste to join Viola when she waved at him to join as well, and Rebecca giggled at the strange blond man. She had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggles though when a long rubber arm shot through the crowd, and Trafalgar Law was hauled to the dance floor with a look of horror.

It was just the two of them, and Cavendish pulled Rebecca close for a moment before he picked her up to twirl her right around in the air. Once he set her back down he tucked her stray bangs behind her ear, and produced a rose seemingly from nowhere as he always managed to do. She raised her eyebrows at his smug smile, and he tucked the rose into her braid and kissed her forehead.

"I told you it was simple."


	7. Asking Permission

There was one mirror in the hall of the palace that had survived the general mayhem of Dressrosa falling apart and being put back together, and Cavendish stood in front of it primping in a way that in anyone else might seem nervous. But as he spent more time fussing over the finer details of his outfit than most people ever did, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to the few people passing by.

Rebecca however could tell that he was out of sorts, and she stayed quiet as he fiddled with every last detail right down to the buckles of his boots. Eventually he straightened his ruffled collar, fluffed his hair, and gave his sword handle a final buff with his sleeve.

"How do I look?" He asked Rebecca, doing a slow spin on the ball of one foot so she could inspect him.

"Handsome as usual." She said with a sigh, chewing her bottom lip. "But Father's still going to kill you. And I don't even know what Aunt Viola will do."

"You have no faith in my charm."

"Even you can't charm my family into agreeing to this." Rebecca said, linking her arm through his. "Even if miss Robin did give you such a nice commendation."

"It'll be fine." Cavendish insisted, and the smile he gave her was the vision of a man with perfect confidence.

His rigid posture said otherwise though, and Rebecca swiped a rose from a vase they passed for him to shred as they walked. Any other day she would tease him that his preoccupation with chewing on rose petals was no different than her nervous habit of chewing her lip, but she didn't want to make him any more flustered than he already was.

They had asked her father and aunt to meet them in the library since it was away from the main area of the palace, and Rebecca stopped short of the carved wooden doors.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked one last time.

"Of course." Cavendish told her with a wink. "However, you have my full permission to use Durandal if there is any imminent danger to my life or my looks."

And ignoring Rebecca's exasperated roll of her eyes, Cavendish threw open the library doors and strode confidently up to Kyros and Viola. Kyros scowled, but Viola smiled as Rebecca came forward to stand alongside Cavendish.

"To get straight to the heart of the matter," he said with an elegant bow, "I want to ask your permission to marry Rebecca."

"Absolutely not!" Kyros thundered at once, putting a hand to his sword hilt. 'She's sixteen!"

"I don't mean to marry her now!" Cavendish said soothingly, edging backwards just the slightest bit. "I was thinking of an extended engagement of perhaps ten years or so."

" _Then you can ask in ten years!"_

With the speed that had made him a formidable fighter even as a toy, Kyros lunged forward and grabbed Cavendish by the scruff of his neck and tossed him right back out the door. Rebecca ran after him with a surprised cry, wincing as the library doors slammed shut behind her. Rebecca could hear her aunt's voice under her father's ranting, and she sighed as she knelt next to Cavendish and helped him sit up from where he had landed against the opposite wall.

"Well, that could have gone better." He said to her, gingerly rubbing at his head.

"I told you it wouldn't work."

"Yes. But you know I am nothing if not optimistic!" He said, accepting her help to stand upright and brushing himself off. "And I would still count this as a success!"

"What?!" Rebecca exclaimed, nearly walking into the wall in shock. "How?"

"He said I could ask again."

And Cavendish kissed the top of Rebecca's head with a grand smile. "What's ten years to the Pirate Prince anyway?"


End file.
